


Advice

by nightcourthighlordrhysand



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightcourthighlordrhysand/pseuds/nightcourthighlordrhysand
Summary: Modern AU based on a scene from the movie The Holiday.





	Advice

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of a bunch of fics I posted on Tumblr (url is same as this username) Let me know what you think! You can expect more SJM based fics to come up over the next week or so :)

Lucien tugged the deep hood back from his face, shaking the frigid rain from his coat as he strode with purpose through the revolving door of the department store.  Generally speaking, he was pretty heavily in the utility over luxury, living a comparatively spartan life when juxtaposed with his peers.

It probably started with his childhood, stereotypical as that sounds, since he’d had more brothers than anyone needs who all enjoyed swiping his belongings and roughing him up for good measure.  He’d only tried going to his parents once each, his father grunted out something about being a man and dealing with it, while his mother took more direct action with his siblings.  Which lead to more roughing up, and a six year old Lucien deciding fewer and less desirable belongings was best for everyone.

Couple this with his brief stint as a soldier, and things end up with an individual who is less than enamored with storing up material objects.

Still, even he has a guilty pleasure in the form of designer silk pajamas.  Really, it was Rhysand’s fault, Rhysand and his stupid gag gifts.  Rolling his eyes with a huff, Lucien stepped quickly onto the escalator, soon tiring of the slow pace and walking up the last half dozen steps, coming face to face with one of the increasingly more realistic ladies lingerie mannequins.

Letting out an impatient grunt to cover his growing blush, _you’ve seen a woman before_ , _A real one_.

“Excuse me sir, can I help you?”

Startled, Lucien turned somewhat clumsily, “I’m just,” he paused when he finally registered _who_ he was addressing - _beautiful rounded cheekbones kissed with blush, a sloping nose spattered with freckles and ending just slightly turned up, and a long slim neck gracefully-_

Her cheeks reddened some, now more a natural phenomena than the original rouge created color as she cleared her throat, “Looking for something in particular?”

“Er- yes.  Pajamas.”

She - Elain according to her golden name tag - smirked at that, gesturing behind him with her head, “I could be wrong, but I think you’d prefer a different department.”

Lucien turned toward where she’d indicated, _the mannequin_ , and fought the urge to drop his head in defeat, slinking from the store and relegating himself to the ill fitting pajamas he could find online.  “Yes.  Sexy Santa isn’t quite my speed.”

Her eyebrows raised a fraction before she turned, gesturing for him to follow and muttering something he almost thought - hoped - sounded like ‘ _that’s a pity.’_

Realizing he’d fallen behind, Lucien dragged his gaze away from the new view of her figure afforded by their positions and rushed to catch up, nearly stumbling into a scowling woman who’s toddler seemed to be highly disappointed in the lack of ice cream offered when it’s blustery and frozen outside.

Muttering quick apologies that go unacknowledged, Lucien finally reaches Elain’s side, lingering behind half a step so he could follow her directions, “So.  I can try and guess your size - which I’m pretty expert at if I do say so myself. But I only exhibit that talent for the willing since it’s easy to offend.  And I work on commission.”

Once again caught up in her dancing chocolate eyes, Lucien managed to respond, “I’m _very_ willing.”

She giggled at that as he buried his flushing face behind broad hands, “Did that sound as-”

Cool fingers wrap around his wrist as she answers, suppressing her mirth, “I knew what you meant.  It’s ok.”

Lucien responds with a non-committal grunt but allows himself to feel slightly mollified as they finally reach the men’s department, “So any guesses about my size?”

He winces again but aside from laughter lingering around her eyes, she powers through professionally, “Well let me have a good look at you.”

Following her silent instructions, he takes a few steps back, allowing his fingers to wriggle at his sides to release some of his nervous tension, before turning as she twists her finger to indicate.

After a few long moments of silence, he asks, “Any guesses yet?”

As he twists over his shoulder, he sees her eyes - widened comically - dart up from his bum guiltily as she smooths her wrinkle free skirt desperately, “Um.  I think you’ve got what I need - I mean I’ve got what you need- I mean- medium should work.”

“Sounds about right.  I trust your judgment,” he grinned, tucking a stray strand of fiery hair behind his ear.

Elain cleared her throat and lead him toward the pajama sets, “So do you have a specific style or fabric in mind?”

 _I am going to kill Rhysand_ _for getting me hooked_.  “Uh, silk?”

She looked at him, surprise flitting across her delicate features, “Really?  I’dve taken you for a no nonsense cotton kind of guy.”

He blushed and began to answer but she cut him off first, “I mean I’m not arguing.  Silk is lovely, _and_ my commission is based on how much you spend.”

Lucien let out a bark of a laugh, relaxing as she pulled out his size in various patterns and cuts, “Yeah, I got hooked after my friend gave me some as a gag gift.”

“I don’t blame you.  Silk is lovely against bare skin-” Elain said, stuttering to a halt at the end.

Grinning, _I guess I’m not the only nervous one_ , Lucien continued the conversation as he let his fingers slide over the luxurious fabric, “Very true.  Although I’ve never been able to get used to sleeping in more than the bottoms.”

Elain furrowed her brow before selecting a dark green set and lifting it just inder his chin thoughtfully, “I love wearing the button up tops, but I _hate_ having my legs all restricted.  So I understand your quandry, friend.”

“It always feels like such a waste, yeah?” Lucien answered, trying to quash the mental picture of her in nothing but a loose fitting silk night shirt.

Humming her agreement, Elain discarded the green in favor of cobalt blue ones with a black trim around the edges, “Well your girlfriend must not mind you being topless.”

Smiling widely Lucien watched her face as she registered the fact that she’d spoken aloud, “Oh my _God_ I’m sorry.  That was _so_ unprofessional and-”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.  Or a wife.  Or anything,” Lucien cut in, stroking the pajamas nervously as he watched some of the tension leave her shoulders, eyes still slightly panicked, “I think I like these.  What do you think?”

“They look wonderful with your skin tone and hair,” Elain answered, seemingly weighing her words carefully after her previous flub, which Lucien was man enough to admit he’d enjoyed heartily.

“Do _you_ like it though?” he pressed, hoping his hastily formulated plan wasn’t about to get him slapped across the face.

Confused, she nodded, “Well yes?  It looks lovely on you.  Do you need to try them on?”

“Nah, this is my usual brand,” Lucien answers easily, before pressing on his original question, “I was asking if you liked these...for you.”

Elain flushed again but he continued, “I swear I’m not being creepy or trying to get in your pants.  At least not right now.”

She lets out a choked laugh as his hasty speech stumbles to an undignified hault.  Groaning, he scratches at his neck, “Maybe I should just buy these and leave you alone before you call security.”

Delicate fingers find his once more, and he releases the death grip on his purchase, dark brown eyes blinking at him beneath thick lashes, “I like the blue.”

Lucien lets his mouth quirk in a small smile, “Yeah?  It’s my favorite color.”

Soon enough she’s ringing up his purchase, and as soon as he pays, he disconnects the two pieces, examining both before sliding the silken top toward her across the counter, “I believe this was our deal?”

Elain grins at that, accepting the gift, slipping it into her cubby beneath the register and tucking his receipt into the bag carefully, “It was nice to meet you-”

“Lucien.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear habitually and nods, “I’m Elain.”

Flicking a finger at her name tag, he laughs, “I know.”

Elain blushes, but smiles, “Merry Christmas.”

“You too.”

Both linger for a few moments until Elain’s supervisor calls her to assist with another customer and she disappears with a final goodbye.

With a sigh, Lucien tucks his purchase carefully beneath his arm, wrapped snugly in the plastic bag against the drizzle, and strides out of the store and toward his waiting motorcycle.

Once he reaches his apartment, kicking his damp boots off onto rug, he drops the bag on expertly made bed and tugs the bottoms from inside.  Just as he moves to toss the receipt aside, he notices a handwritten note at the bottom:

_Lucien - I’m worried blue isn’t my color.  Maybe I could model the top for you sometime? - Elain_

Punching the number into his phone with a smile Cassian would mock him for, Lucien sends off a message before saving the contact:

**Glad to give advice on color theory.  Not sure these bottoms fit right.  May need expert opinion**

 


End file.
